3 AM
by Scott Summers
Summary: A pregnant MJ wakes to discover a lack of husband. ;) Please read and review.


*Disclaimer: I don't own anything.. save for your attention whilst you read this. ;D Well, hopefully. Heh. I hope you enjoy it -- and, as always, feel free to review! :D  
  
It's 3 AM.  
  
I stir. The baby inside of me wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
I love her, of course -- but I'd rather be sleeping right now.  
  
You'd think I'd be used to it .. but I'm not. I just can't wait to skip forward a little bit.  
  
I can't wait for her to look up at me for the first time.  
  
For her to make me proud.  
  
I'm eagerly awaiting the finger-painting..  
  
..the show-and-tell..  
  
..the drawings on the 'fridge.  
  
First words.. first everything.   
  
..I love you's.  
  
But for right now, I'm just going to have to settle for trips to the bathroom. At 3 AM. And, of course, when I'm returning from the visit with my dinner, that's when I see it.  
  
I was in bed alone.  
  
It isn't that I don't love the fact that Peter is Spider-Man. I do. He gets to soar with the birds.. go to incredible places -- places that I can only dream about. He's even left the planet. Most importantly, though, he's out there saving lives -- and that's the most incredible thing anyone can do.  
  
And, of course, his flexibility. It's amazing, the things that man can do. Oh.. and his Spider-sense..? Don't get me started. It detects A LOT more than danger. I love the way he..   
  
Ahem.  
  
That's why you're pregnant, MJ.   
  
And because I'm pregnant, I'm an emotional wreck. I've come to terms with it -- and I'd think that he would have by now, too. It isn't that I want him to walk me to the bathroom so that I can visit my dinner -- it would just be nice to know that he's right there in the bed if I need him. Ready to help ME.   
  
And 3 AM?  
  
3. AM.  
  
Three!  
  
I'm going to kill him!  
  
If he's still alive..  
  
Stop it, MJ. You're going to worry yourself sick.   
  
I just hate that I have no idea where he is -- or what he's doing. What psycho's chasing him around with the latest artillery from Spidey-slaying monthly.   
  
He's told me stories.  
  
I asked him to stop. I got tired of hearing how many times he'd narrowly escaped death.. how many times I'd nearly become a widow. But even so, there've been times that I've been there.. right in the middle of a battle.  
  
Gotta love the guilty by association thing. If I had a penny for everytime I'd been taken hostage..  
  
But that's why Peter's so adamant about keeping his secret identity. He loves me.   
  
Are you listening to yourself, MJ?  
  
He loves you, Mary Jane Parker.  
  
Loves. You.  
  
You beat out the rest of those gals and won his heart.  
  
..  
  
I'm going to kill him.  
  
Because I know he's okay.  
  
He has to be.  
  
He is.  
  
I hope.  
  
Stop it, Mary Jane. Just stop.  
  
It's just that when these things happen, it's horrible that there's absolutely nothing I can do. Not a thing.  
  
There isn't a Spidey signal on the top of some building that I can just turn on to broadcast to Manhattan. I can see why Bruce Wayne can't keep a girlfriend in those movies. And I'm not talking about the fact that he went from Michael Keaton to George Clooney.   
  
I know why Peter can keep one long enough for me to marry him, though.. because I love him.  
  
And though he spends more time with webbing fluid than his own wife -- his PREGNANT wife -- I still love him.  
  
That's why I'm going to kill him.   
  
3 AM!  
  
Sigh.   
  
I'm just going to go to bed. Thinking about it isn't going to solve a thing. I'm just going to get so sick from it all that morning sickness won't be a thing.  
  
G'night, Peter..  
  
You too, kicker.  
  
...  
  
..  
  
....  
  
You never notice how big this bed is until you're in it alone! For your sake, Peter Parker, you'd better get home very soon.  
  
Umph. I don't think you've ever kicked that hard. Thanks, dear.  
  
Speaking of kicking.. looking at the window -- and the man crawling inside of it -- makes me want to do some kicking of my own.  
  
"Don't worry about being quiet, Peter. I'm up with the baby. And worrying about you."  
  
I wait a moment. "Have a hard day at work?"  
  
"I guess the, 'Honey.. I'm home!' bit won't work," he begins. "But, yeah.. definitely a hard one. JJ worked me until I wanted to scream. How many pictures should a professional have to take, anyway?" He snickers.  
  
I'm really sure I was talking about your work for the Bugle, Peter Parker. The look I'm giving him -- the look he's familiar with -- expresses my thoughts very well.   
  
But then my look changes -- and I don't think he's seen this one before.  
  
Oh, wow..  
  
We're going to need a mop. 


End file.
